The Chicago Clan: Ch 1 Second City
by Cosmina Inspira
Summary: Meet Harry Dresden, Chicago's only wizard and private investigator, begins to investigate the possibility of gargoyles in Chicago as two new clans make the city their new home. One clan with a possible connection to the Manhattan Clan sets to defending their home when it's invaded by a strange yet violent biker gang.
1. Chapter 1

The Chicago Clan

Chpt. 1: Second City

By Inspiration

Disclaimer: Gargoyles the animated series, including the Goliath Chronicles, is originally the property of the Walt Disney Company and distributed by Buena Vista Television, and originally created by Greg Weisman. Characters of the Dresden Files book series, such as Harry Dresden, Bob the Skull, and the Streetwolves gang upon whom my characters are inspired from, are the property and creation of author Jim Butcher (who is rumored to have been a Gargoyles fan). No infringement is intended, and not authorized by the copyholders. All original characters are the property of Inspiration. The stories written here are only for entertainment and fun of creativity and no profit is made off of any stories of the writer's fan fiction.

Chicago.

An old city by American standards, and one of the most successful cities of business in the world. Like any American city, it's diverse and filled with life with the many kinds of restaurants and shopping and various tourist destinations that you can find alongside the big businesses.

However, like any big city it can also be, need I say it, a retched hive of scum and villainy.

But it's my city, and it's my job to protect the good people of this great city from the darker and uglier forms of that scum and villainy that dares to prey upon them.

You may not see them now, but if you're not careful they will come at you in the dark and you will never know what hit you until it's too late. They are the stuff of nightmares, things that go bump in the night that you try to tell small children that they don't exist under the bed or in the closet.

But they do exist.

They are the nightmares of legends of the ancient world that people no longer believe in, or at least claim to.

Believe in them or not, that's up to you. But there can be no denying by those like me that the supernatural still exists even in the modern world today.

Hi, my name is Harry and I'm a wizard.

No, not that Harry.

I don't wear glasses and I'd look ridiculous in one of those Hogwarts school uniforms. But then people are always saying I look ridiculous in my long duster which they say belongs on the set of _Eldorado_.

But, hey I love this duster.

It's a long dark brown jacket that comes down to the middle of my lower thighs, with a long mantle over it down to my elbows, plus plenty of large pockets for me to carry necessary magical tools I may need.

Under it I'm simply wearing faded jeans, a grey polo shirt, and work boots.

I'm also a lot taller than the average man, about 6 feet 9 inches, and my build is pretty average and wiry with abs of plastic. I don't use mirrors very often, but I know that have short dark brown hair and brown eyes. My face is a bit long with sharp cheeks, a sharp chin, a long nose, and day old stubble growing on my face from not shaving today.

As a wizard, I always carry a small arsenal of magical tools with me such as a six foot tall oak staff with magical symbols on it, a foot and half long blasting rod as thick as my first two fingers, and I always wear a silver pentacle necklace I inherited from my mother, a shield bracelet made from what look like miniature Medieval shields, and a silver ring on my right middle finger that saves a little energy each time I moved my arm.

Anyway, I also happen to be a private investigator.

I look into things that most people can't explain and try to put their minds at ease, and for the bigger supernatural problems I'm a paid consultant for the Chicago Police Department, mostly the Special Investigations Unit.

As glamorous as it sounds, it doesn't always pay much because there are plenty of people who believe me to be a charlatan. I've gotten plenty of cases where people would call me out to their homes to have me perform an exorcism where there was nothing for me to exorcise, or I would get crank calls from anonymous strangers who would call me a crackpot or other colorful names.

But don't worry, I'm used to it and I really can't blame them. There aren't a lot of people who believe in the existence of wizards or the supernatural anymore and maybe on a big level it's better that way, because I have seen just how scary it really is.

One of those times may be happening right now.

I had gotten a call earlier today about a break in at a financial firm building not far from where I work. It seemed like a typical average case for the police, but when they found a few unusual things about the case they called in their Special Investigations.

The SI is the city's answer to finding out the real causes of things that seem out of the ordinary, cases that fall between the cracks or out of the line of other official departments; unfortunately it's also considered a wasteland for burnt out cops or others that didn't like the rules of their old departments, so it's where they get sent to be out of the way and deal with the cases that no other departments want to deal with.

When things get really 'out there' they call in Chicago's only professional practicing wizard in the phonebook, me.

Sometime last night the lobby of the financial firm had been broken into by unknown creatures, no doubt I'm sure something of the Nevernever, the ancient spirit world of myth and legends. They were described as looking like a cross between monkeys and scorpions with black acidic spittle. They went on a rampage in the lobby and attacked the night security guard on duty at the time, who was lucky to have escaped with his life.

Of course it turns out he had help.

A second party of unknown creatures swooped in to the rescue and saved the security guard before the place became an insurance company's nightmare.

At first it may sound like a typical matter of creatures fighting naturally for territory, except that these weren't natural creatures, and as a private investigator I know that something more is going on here.

I decided to start with a quick interview with the security guard and have a once over with what he may have seen last night and get a better idea of what he saw.

Another idea going through my head that I would need to do, but I really don't wanted to, is speaking to the owner of the financial firm building, John Marcone.

I know it sounds innocent enough but trust me; Marcone is someone I would rather avoid like the Plague.

No, scratch that, I would rather get the Plague than deal with Marcone.

John Marcone is among Chicago's wealthiest and most successful businessmen, but that's just a mask of legitimacy to cover his real character. He's really Gentleman Johnny Marcone, the most powerful crime lord in Chicago's underworld; a ruthless tyrant and a predator of the mortal world in his own right. But what he does is a double edged sword, for alongside the bloodshed on his hands he also keeps the worst of Chicago's crimes down to a minimum in the name of 'good business,' which has also kept him under the radar of the police for years now.

He can call it whatever he wants, but I know him for the scum that he really is.

Although he has no magical abilities, and wizard or not, he scares the hell out of me because I have soulgazed into him.

I feel lucky for now that we have an understanding to stay out of each other's way, but if it will come to me confronting him again on this new case I'll have to be prepared.

I took a taxi to Cook County Hospital from the financial building, which took a great chunk of any cash I have on me at the moment.

I would have taken my trusty *Blue Beetle* instead, but at the moment it's inconveniently in the shop.

Again.

It's been reliable to me a long time and can run eight days out of nine but can still die on me at the worst of times.

Wizards have a natural aura of magic around them, a kind of mystical living field that surrounds an individual and can be felt more easily by others when we feel strong emotions.

It's one of the down sides of being a wizard that I have to be more cautious about, wizards and technology almost always don't get along so well, which is why it always makes me nervous about entering a place like a hospital.

If I'm around anything made after World War II, I may unintentionally make it go wonky or caput. And in a place like a hospital, I may accidentally make Grandpa's oxygen supply shut down or ruin a heart monitor in the middle of a difficult heart surgery.

Don't ask me why or how it works, I'm still not sure. All I know is that wizards naturally have this kind of energy with their magic that surrounds them in a kind of Murphy's Law aura that modern technology can't tolerate.

It's why I took the stairs to the injured security guard's hospital room instead of an elevator.

Not that I don't trust elevators to a point, it's just that only a few years ago I had a bad experience with the one at my office building where I work. All I know is that it involved a giganto scorpion and a mysteriously strong gust of wind that sent it plummeting to a crash from several floors up.

Seriously, that's all I know about it.

When I finally made my way up to the fifth floor of the hospital my legs felt a little like rubber. I'm not out of shape or anything, and I am used enough to climbing stairs, it's just still such an effort to climb a long way up even for someone with legs as long as mine.

I then made my way to the security guard's hospital room, a man named Albert Bottomfield. I know, it's taking me everything right now not to snicker too much.

I gave a knock at the room he was said to be in.

"Yeah, what's it? Come in," I heard an annoyed groggy voice say.

I slowly opened the door to his room, not wanting to irritate him any more than I should.

In the hospital bed was who I presumed had to be the security guard. He was an averaged sized man with a bit of a belly from what I could make out from beneath the soft crisp blankets. His face was round with a bit of the beginning of aging wrinkles with a balding head that still had wispy hair down the crown of his head and going a bit grey at the temples of his dishwater blond hair. He had to be at the beginnings of middle age, a fatherly type that had become comfortable with his job and family in life. He was propped up in the bed by several hospital pillows, his right arm was wrapped in an arm sling across his chest and he was hooked up to all of the usual medical machines that monitor his condition from the drips in the IV bag to the 'beep, beep' of the heart monitor.

He looked at me wearily with amazingly piercing hazel brown eyes that spoke of years of experience, the right one a black eye and slightly swollen and bloodshot, but at the beginnings of slow healing. His left cheek had a slight burn mark across it and several on his visible left arm as though he had unintentionally touched chemical acid.

"What do you want?" he demanded. His voice was husky and deep with a kind of comedic tone to it that made you think of a lovable and goofy cartoon character that would be your dad.

"Mr. Bottomfield? I'm Harry Dresden, a consultant with the Chicago police," I gently began, "I was hoping to ask you a few questions about last night."

"I already told the cops everything I knew," he snapped tiredly.

"I know," I tried to calmly assure him, "It's why they brought me onto the case. I just wanted to know more about it from you. I promise it won't take up too much of your time."

I could tell from the way he looked at me and how the drugs must have made him all groggy and moody, that this must've been the last thing he wanted to do. I also must be his most unusual hospital visitor and one he would not normally see.

"Fine, what do you wanna know?"

"May I sit down?"

He gesture to a chair near the door which I then brought up to a safe distance from his bed.

"Dresden. Why does that name ring a bell."

I was about to say something witty as he said, "Never mind, ask your damn questions."

"I was told about what had happened, I want to know if you can remember anything else that you didn't tell the police. Something that you can remember now that was forgotten when you gave the police your statement about the break in."

"You think I'm crazy."

"No."

" 'S okay, I do. For all I know it was just a gang of a bunch of kids pulling some kind of prank or college dare on each other and it got out of hand, and me an innocent by stander. Or I was hallucinating from some kind of weird leaking gas in the air."

"Or maybe you actually saw scary monsters."

He gave me a groggy dirty look, but I just smiled a little at him. He then gave me basically the same story that Lieutenant Murphy had briefed me of earlier today.

"I swear I thought they were gonna eat me," he then said to my surprise, "Those disgusting drooling sharp teeth and ugly twisted faces with those hungry empty black eyes. They snapped at me, almost tore my foot off, I'm lucky I still have my face thank God it wasn't burned off. And then these . . . blue angels or demons or whatever swooped in roaring like lions or somethin' and started fighting the other monsters. I was sure that they were fighting over me as their next meal, even when they told me to run. I tried but my ankle had been sprained, which was when one of them grabbed me by my belt and threw me into the janitor's closet. I don't know how she got so strong, but she must work out."

"How do you know it was a 'she'?" I asked.

"Do I look like an idiot to you, stretch? As dark as it was I know a lady's shape and voice when I hear it. Whatever they were I now think they were trying to help me, or maybe I'm on their menu for a midnight snack for them instead of for the other monsters later. All I know is that something weird and creepy happened to me last night and I thank God I'm still alive, I have a family to support, kids to put through school."

"Can you tell me what they looked like, the other monsters?"

"All I can remember are giant bat wings and long lizard tails like they were something from one of Dante's inner Hell circles, and had sharp claws and fangs and blue skin like they were suffering from frostbite or something. After she threw me into the closet I asked why they were doing this and all I got from her was 'Because we protect.' I have no idea what that means. That's all I can tell you."

"What do you remember about the slippery clear goo?"

"I dunno what the stuff was, I thought water had leaked from somewhere or at first that it was some kind of weird blood, but it just seemed to disappear a few minutes before the cops got there, even the stains that I swear were on my uniform."

"Ectoplasm," I thought aloud, "The essence of the Nevernever that those ghouls used to create bodies for themselves in the physical world."

"Ecto-what? What are ya, some kinda Ghostbuster?"

"Kind of."

I got up from my seat and left a card with my office address and number and answering service on a side table for him.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Bottomfield. If you can remember anything else this is how you can reach me."

I was about to leave when he blurted out, "Oh here's something! Since last night I heard that I ain't the only one that's had this happen to, the others were too."

"What others?" I was suddenly panic struck.

"I've been told that I wasn't the first, that other people have been attacked by monsters like the ones I saw. I dunno who they are but I heard rumors that some are worse off than me, one of 'em may have died already."

"Hell's bells," I breathed, "So some brainless dark wizard just summons ghouls from the Nevernever all willy nilly just to attack innocent people for his own sick amusement."

I gripped my staff hard in my hand for a moment at the thought of someone using magic in such a perverted way that I almost didn't hear the bedridden security guard start to say over my grinding teeth,

"Wait. Dresden, ghouls, wizards? Ain't you that guy from that TV show?"

I just looked at him as I said to my annoyance, "I don't watch TV."

I then just made my way out of the room and out of the hospital.

There is work to be done, and I have to find out who these other victims are and who is summoning these demons to the human world as well as who or what these other creatures are that claimed to protect.

And if they do, what exactly are they claiming to protect?


	2. Chapter 2

I gave Murphy a quick call at the station from the nearest pay phone I could find. All she could tell me for now was that SI was still doing an investigation into other related break ins similar to the one I had just been shown.

The first explanation the police believed was that dangerous wild animals had escaped from the local zoo and had gone on a rampage, but when they got descriptions of the creatures that had attacked the security guard and his statement of the slippery goo, Murphy decided to bring me in on the case.

It sounded like a clean and logical enough explanation, which is what the police and city officials most often want to hear. But with many cases of this type, there are too many holes that don't fill in the blanks very well; such as the fact that no escaped animals have been reported and no animal attack casualties have been reported either, but mostly how the creatures described didn't fit any known species and the nearest zoo was in Lincoln Park and this took place in the financial district.

I told Murphy that I will report any information I find to her as soon I as I could before I hung up the phone. She gave me 24 hours, and that's usually generous from Murphy. Anything I find today or tonight I am to have a report made for her by this time tomorrow afternoon.

It sounds easy enough but trust me, being a paranormal investigator and a wizard is not as easy as it sounds and will have plenty of drawbacks often enough.

I then called for another cab to take me back to my office, not that it's any place fancy to be but a guy's got to have a work place when you go into this kind of business.

My office is located in an ordinary looking building that is like any other in the neighborhood, with a law firm practice and a psychiatrist, as well as a private investigator and only practicing wizard in the Chicago phone book.

My personal office is on the fifth floor in a corner of the building where my desk sits in front of two windows at a perpendicular angle. At the door is a table with fliers explaining about magic in the modern age such as Magic is Real or Wizards and You, among others, most I've written myself.

The ceiling fan just gave a faint squeak as it spun lazily overhead and I smelled the familiar pleasant aroma of old coffee from my old fashioned coffee maker.

I looked at today's mail that had come in earlier which sat untouched on my desk. Some of it was more junk mail from Best Buy or some other high tech store line, which I keep trying to tell them to stop doing, and a couple of others were payments for past cases.

One of them was a little less than half of what my usual fee is, but that's another issue I have to put up with when I have to work with even the strongest of skeptics. The other was a bit more generous, a full payment plus a ten percent bonus all because I helped to relocate a few gnomes from a middle aged man's country home.

Those little guys are helpful to humans much of the time, but they do tend to occasionally play annoying but harmless pranks on people out of boredom.

All I did was help find them a new home for their growing family.

Still these new payments may be enough to help me pay off a few overdue bills, get a healthy dinner from Burger King, and put whatever is left into savings.

Hey, even a wizard needs to put away a little money for a rainy day, and believe me there's always plenty here in Chicago.

After checking for any messages from my message company, I decided to call it a day at the office and head for home to consult with someone I knew could help me in this new case about who may be summoning ghouls and what these other monsters may be.

* * *

My home is more of a bachelor pad than a real home, but hey I call it home. I live in the basement of an old brownstone that used to be a women's townhouse, among other things in its long colorful history, and I've occasionally done chores for my more elderly neighbors such as my land lady.

After walking down the stairs to my front door and lowering my wards, I opened my front door with a bit of a struggle. The next thing I knew I felt a heavy bump against my legs that almost toppled me over as I began to walk inside.

That would be my grey bobtailed cat, Mister. I found him in an alley when was still a tiny kitten, but I swear his father must've been a mountain lion because he's the size of a bobcat and thirty pounds of muscle in a domestic house cat.

As soon as the door began to open he dashed inside and jumped to his favorite stop on the top of my bookshelf and settled for a nice cat nap.

If only I could do that so easily.

I bought all of my furniture at second hand stores with a comfortable couch and a padded chair, both in front of a simple full fire place with a mantle above where I have an unused engagement ring. On the cold stone floor I have an assortment of throw rugs, one wall has a tall bookshelf where I have a modest collection of paperback books and one wall even has an old fashioned Star Wars poster, the one with Luke Skywalker holding up his lightsaber with Princess Leia down by his leg with a hand sensuously and defiantly on her hip.

My kitchen is just an alcove with a sink and an icebox, where I quickly made myself a ham sandwich and grabbed a coke, and the next smaller room is my bedroom, where there's barely enough room to walk with an extra long twin bed, a tiny closet and an even tinier bathroom.

I have no kind of modern technology whatsoever, and for good reason.

I don't even have heated plumbing, so I've always had to tolerate cold showers for most of my adult life.

My tiny apartment may not be much to look at but it's comfortable as any place for Chicago's only practicing wizard, it's warm enough in the winter and cool enough in the summer. Aside from only candles I have strategically placed around my apartment and my large fire place, the only source of light I have is a small rectangular window in my living room that is placed at street level.

As soon as I finished my quick snack, I put on a cozy bathrobe and opened a floor door with a pull down stair way that lead down to my lab, which was also the sub-basement of the old town house.

Believe me there's a reason why wizards are iconic for wearing long robes, and it's not always some fashion statement. It's because our labs get very cold, and mine is always cold and even worse than hell in the freezing Chicago winter.

My lab is about a little more than half the size of the rest of my apartment, and all around are wire shelves with Tupperware, boxes, and bottles filled with everything a wizard would need to make potions or any other kind of magic spell, some of it obvious and some of it questionable.

And before you ask, no I don't have any eye of newt. Hollywood has gone really overboard using that cliché.

The center of my lab had a rectangular wooden table where I do most of my work that takes up most of the lab and still barely leaves enough room for moving around. The only open space in the entire lab and clear of any physical objects is a copper circle imbedded into the stone floor about four feet wide.

It's my summoning circle for when I need to call up some extra special expertise on certain cases, which I try not to do very often.

I looked up at the tallest wire shelf in my lab, which had candle holders covered in lava spills of candle wax of various colors. Also there was a small stack of Victoria's Secret magazines and a small collection of erotica novels which all surrounded a bleached white human skull.

Yes, a real human skull.

"Hey, Bonehead, wake up," I said to the skull, "It's time to get to work."

Small orange specks of light glowed from the skull's eye sockets as it then opened its jaws wide to give a long loud yawn from a long nap.

"That joke's getting really old, Harry," it said, "When are you going to come up with new material?"

"Don't knock the classics, Bob, they never go out of style."

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Bob the Skull.

Okay, his name isn't actually Bob and he isn't really a talking skull. He's an air spirit of intellect with more knowledge and experience in magic than anyone living I've ever met, and he's forgotten more about the Mystic Arts than I'll ever know.

Except Bob doesn't forget anything, which makes him all the more valuable to me.

The skull just happens to be a physical object that Bob can safely inhabit, because he can't exist outside it without a solid corporeal form because of his nature of being only an air spirit.

I inherited him from my late mentor, Justin DuMourne, after he died and I've been able to count on Bob ever since then.

More on that later.

Anyway, the name Bob is just something I've called the spirit of the skull just because it's easier than something like 'spirit-of-knowledge-who-lives-in-a-skull' or 'spirit-thing-with-a-bad-attitude-and-takes-up-space-on-my-shelf'.

As annoying as he can be most often, I know I can always count on him for any kind of magical assistance.

From another shelf I took down a legal pad of paper and a freshly sharpened number 2 pencil as I told Bob about this latest case SI is working on and what I've been told about it.

Bob just gave a low hum as if thinking about something.

"Ghouls just randomly attacking a financial building that happens to be owned by Johnny Marcone," Bob said, "And a security guard saved by other unknown monsters. Well, we both know ghouls aren't always the sharpest tact on the board when it comes to some of the more dangerous creatures of the Nevernever, Harry. These creatures may all have been just the bad out of control summoning of a young wizard now discovering his magic, and that's best left for the Wardens to deal with. So unless you can tell me anything else that happened or any more details about these other monsters, I've got nothing for you."

I just frowned at him, it's so rare that Bob wouldn't have anything to tell me with his knowledge of magic and the supernatural that would rival the Library of Congress.

But I know him too well. He wants something.

"I don't have time for your bad joking, Bob, so you tell me anything you might know or I'll just put you in a box at the bottom of my closet for the next two or three hundred years."

Bob just scoffed, this is just an old game of ours that we've always played since before I even got my investigative license. He knows I would never do such a thing to him, and I know he's more valuable to me as my magical 'assistant' than just another piece of junk filling up my closet.

"Sure, sure, Harry. But it's just been so slow lately in the last several months. I need to get out and see the world."

"No, Bob. The last time I let you out the police were called about an out of control rave at an adult movie store, and don't deny you didn't have something to do with it because I know you do."

If it was possible for the creepy smile of a skull to become bigger, somehow Bob did it.

"Ah, c'mon, Harry, it wouldn't be so bad. I promise to keep it down to a minimum tonight."

I just gave him a dirty look as I said, "I knew you'd be difficult, Bob, that's why I bought this before I came home."

I held up a glossy magazine for him to see and his orange lights became bigger and brighter.

"The latest edition of Victoria's Secret swimsuit edition?" he exclaimed with growing excitement and squeak in his voice. He then just turned to one side like he didn't care, but I can tell otherwise.

"That's nice."

I placed the magazine next to my notepad and waited.

"Okay, skull head, spill the beans and the magazine is yours."

"Oh, all right," he complained, "But what I have to tell you is going to be worth a lot more than just a swimsuit magazine."

"I'll think about it."

He made a sound like he was clearing his throat, which is amazing because he has no throat, and began to say, "As you know, Harry, something such as a ghoul must be summoned by a mortal magic user in order to cross over into our world. But there are occasional creatures of the spirit world that can crossover on their own if they're powerful enough, such as one of the Third Race, like the Sidhe, or a deity, but even they on rare occasions need a summoning if the wizard is powerful enough."

I knew the basics of this myself already, having performed a few summons myself, but not that recently, but I wrote it down as Bob spoke just to be sure I didn't miss anything.

However, one thing caught my attention.

"What a minute, the Third Race? Exactly how many races are there, aside from humans, vampires, werewolves, demons, and fairies? Wait, are there magical Martians on Earth that I was never told about?"

Bob just turned his skull and started hitting his 'head' against the wall behind him as he let out a frustrated sigh.

He finally turned back to face me and said,

"Harry, you're a wizard, you should know this stuff already. Didn't Justin ever teach you about the Three Races?"

"No, that's what I have you for."

That first part came out a bit harsher than I intended. You see, though Justin taught me a lot about magic, in the end it turned out I didn't really know him at all.

"Alright, smart ass, try to follow me on this, and if I need to use smaller words for your caveman brain to understand better just speak up."

"Ooga booga."

"It's all very simple, Harry. There are three major races to this world, though throughout history the second and third races had had more interaction and intimate relationships than with the first. The stories I can tell you will have your libido running wild in two seconds."

"Bob. Focus."

"Oh. Right. Anyway, creatures like vampires and werewolves aren't exactly separate races themselves, though they do strongly seem like it, but thousands of years ago they were actually regular humans, the second race, that became cursed by the Third Race in various ways that got past down from one generation to the next, or they stupidly dabbled in magic they had no business to in the first place."

"So if the 'second race' is just regular humans and this 'Third Race' is. . ."

"The Fey, Harry, or more precisely Oberon's Children. Fairies, which include the Little Folk that your little friend Toot Toot belongs to. But for a bigger picture, and to make a long story short, the Third Race are all the magical beings ever written about in history including the ancient gods and goddesses of all the old pantheons you can think of. They are among the most powerful of the Third Race, and rightly so."

I could only just look at Bob with a raised eye brow in confusion. This was not exactly how it had been taught to me when I was younger and I had just discovered that magic is real.

"I thought gods were something separate from fairies and elves."

"Not really, Harry, just superior to the less powerful ones. Much like your just superior to a gibbon."

I gave him a dirty look, but the orange lights of his eyes just twinkled, I mean really twinkled, as the airy spirit within chuckled.

I just got back to business with him as I said,

"If humans are the second race, and gods and fairies are the third, than what is the first?"

"Gargoyles."

"Excuse me?"

Bob gave a groaning sigh. Obviously this was something else I should already know.

"C'mon, Harry, don't tell me you're that stupid. You know what gargoyles are."

"I only know that they're grotesque monstrous statues used for decoration on tall buildings and churches. I also know that there's a lot of them on Notre Dame."

He gave a heavy sigh.

"Okay, true, but there's a lot more to them than that. Those old stone statues are just inspired and screwed up versions of the real thing sleeping in a stone shell during the day. What do you think those statues are put up there for, besides Gothic decorations?"

"It's believed they protect the churches or buildings from evil spirits."

"Exactly, Harry. But in truth gargoyles protect, period. Now the real things are a lot more complex. Centuries before I came into Justin's possession, I belonged to a wizard who had allied with a local clan of gargoyles who agreed to allow him to live on the edge of their territory in exchange for him using his magic to protect them during the day. It worked for a little while, but unfortunately it was when the Inquisition was in full swing and the poor bastard was burned at the stake and the clan was killed in their sleep, all because it was thought a warlock was controlling a hoard of demons."

"But they aren't actually demons."

What Bob had to tell me made some sense, because I've had my share of dealing with true demons, especially in recent years. But in my youth I had a dangerous encounter with a kind of super demon called an Outsider, and as the name obviously shows virtually nothing is known about them and there's mostly just speculation about anything that's written about them.

I had a feeling that this may take a little longer than I thought it was going to, but there's always one question about what I was going to deal with in any case I took if I was going to be prepared.

"Alright, Bob, if gargoyles aren't really demons, are they still dangerous?"

"That depends."

"On what?" I asked in an almost annoyed tone.

"On how you present yourself to them and treat them in return. You see, Harry, gargoyles are as ancient as Dragons, and an honorable, stubborn and proud race. And though they are very territorial about a place they've chosen to protect as their home, they've proven to be a lot more intelligent than humans, and a lot less quick to judge or prone to pettiness. But cross them wrong and they won't hesitate to defend themselves or their protectorate. They may try anything from simply trying to scare away intruders to ripping them apart with their bare hands. So it's never a good idea to provoke them."

"So how do I avoid provoking them?"

"Think about how you don't like to be provoked, Harry, or how stupidly you tend to provoke a dangerous creature. Unless they share your pathetic sense of humor, you may want to keep that mouth in check."

I gave the skull a dirty look.

"Anyway, they especially can be really dangerous if you threaten their young, which they will defend literally to their dying breath, especially the females. And my God, the gorgeous boobs I've seen on some females. . ."

"Bob."

"Ahem. So it's never a good idea to provoke them."

I chewed on my pencil's eraser for a minute to think. I then remembered a small blood sample I'd taken from the crime scene just hours before, which Murphy had told me wasn't human.

"Do gargoyles bleed, Bob?"

He just gave another frustrated groan as he said, "Yes, Mister Obvious, though gargoyles live longer than humans and have connections to the spirit world only they understand, they're like most other mortal creatures, they bleed which means they're mortal."

I then showed him the blood sample I rubbed off from the crime scene, telling him it wasn't human.

"If I am dealing with gargoyles, Bob, I just need to be certain."

"Alright, let's have a looksee."

I opened the white cloth tissue and held it up for Bob to see.

"Hmm," he hummed after a few moments, "That's strange."

"What is it?"

"If this is gargoyle blood, Harry, there's something peculiar about it. As if it's altered somehow. There's also some small traces of human blood in it."

"Maybe some of it was the security guard's. He was pretty beat up when I saw him."

"Maybe, but I don't think so," Bob said, "I can see at least two individual blood samples there, and neither appears to be the security guard's blood. Anyway, if you're going to use that blood sample to try tracking down the owner it's too old by now."

I just gave him another dirty look, because I already knew that.

Everything Bob just told me got me thinking about what to do next while some more questions started going through my head.

If gargoyles protect, then they may have been the other monsters described by the security guard that saved him, while the others may've been ghouls or some other form of demons.

So what were they doing in Chicago now, and why?

And that still left the question of who summoned those other monsters and why they attacked a financial building belonging to Johnny Marcone.


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere on the outskirts of the Windy City yet still close enough for a trip into the city by air in just a few minutes, a once elegant mansion that had not seen life in many years still stood with a lingering dignified and majestic presence as the onset of dimming twilight encompassed the large structure with a growing blanket of velvet night.

The architecture of the mansion had been modeled after the classy chateauxes of the upper noble classes of Victorian England, built by a wealthy family in the early days of Chicago's founding. It had since then gone through a few changes as time went by, to be expanded and given new wings to show the prominence and stature of the family to their contemporaries.

However, with the crash of the stock market in 1929 and the coming of the Great Depression, the family declared bankruptcy and the house was soon abandoned.

For decades it stood alone, dark, mysterious, frightening and forgotten as time claimed a bit of it piece by piece to rot and decay the rock and mortar built upon the mansion's foundation, its walls became covered in vines of weeds and ivy to nearly camouflage its walls, several of which had collapsed from decades of neglect to leave wide dark openings in the walls.

For those many years of abandonment, only insects, owls, or other occasional stray animals would call the mansion home for a time, making caterwauling noises to reinforce the belief that the mansion must have been haunted by anyone who passed by or a naïve teen would enter and spend the night on a dare.

Now, for at least two months the mansion had begun to be steadily given a face lift as carpentry and construction crews worked round the clock from an hour after dawn to an hour before sunset to give the long abandoned mansion a more habitable and cleanly feel. Some workers wondered why they were not asked to work over time during the night, but it was just decided it was best to not ask questions because the people who hired their company to do the work paid well enough.

The mansion had recently been bought by a young and rich couple who recently arrived from New York, and the young man had just inherited his trust fund when he came of age at 21. He and his new wife had gotten married before graduating from Columbia University a little over a year ago, and now sought to begin his new company, Blue Twilight Industries, in Chicago and begin their new life together.

They had purchased the mansion not only for its abandonment, but for them its location was ideal for what they looked for. It was still close to the city yet still provided enough distance from Chicago for their desired amount of privacy, and was within driving distance of Lake Michigan for fishing and other summer activities, as well as driving distance from the state parks for hunting seasons.

Not long after buying the mansion and moving in as the remodeling began, the couple brought with them their assorted collection of unusual statuary of life sized stone monsters, which oddly stood upon the edges of the mansion's rooftop really quickly from after it was purchased.

And had any worker taken a closer look, they would have noticed the statues in different positions each day.

As the wondrous beauty of dusk slowly blanketed the mansion, a simple 2000 dark blue four door Saturn drove up to the iron gates of the mansion's outer walls. The driver, a dusky skinned young woman freshly out of college, drove up next to a high tech control panel and entered a code only she knew and waited for the hidden camera to recognize her face and code. A moment later, the iron gates steadily opened with a heavy metallic creak to allow her entrance onto the beautiful green and finely kept grounds surrounding the mansion.

She drove on the gravel paved road around the chateaux like structure to the back wing where the large garage was located to find several other cars parked inside. However, none were models that would be expected to be owned or collected by a wealthy young couple.

Making her way from the garage to a back door, the young woman, named Laurie, was met at a back door, seemingly made of a varnish imitation oak wood, by a tall and lanky man with dark steely brown eyes, closely cropped grey white hair, and carrying himself with an air of class and stiff prim and properness about himself.

"Miss Charleston," he greeted her with a somewhat wooden manner.

"Hey, Kingsley," Laurie said, "Where is everybody?"

"If you will so kindly come with me, Miss Charleston, I will show you to the gardens," Kingsley stated.

Laurie then followed the butler through the winding halls of the progressively remodeled mansion. A few minutes later a spine chilling roar or some other animalistic cry echoed throughout the mansion's walls to momentarily startle Laurie, though Kingsley did not show it bothered him in the least.

"No matter how many times I hear that it still freaks me," Laurie said.

"Indeed," was all Kingsley responded with.

They soon arrived in what may be the mansion's new garden, an open space in the back of the mansion twice the size of the White House lawn. As with the reconstruction of the old mansion, the back grounds were being refurbished into a recreational garden for both enjoyment of simple beauty and the private harvesting of crops and herbs.

Though the seeds and plants for the gardens had been planted only several short weeks ago, some areas were now showing the beginnings of plentiful and well kept groves and hedges to further give the long abandoned mansion new life and the feel of a real home for its newest residents. The inner groves and bushes were of flora commonly found among rural neighborhoods, tall trees for shade and fun climbing for young children, as well as the more common rose, chrysanthemum, wisteria, and snowball bushes. A bit further out, vegetable gardens had been planted with seeds that could thrive in cold weather and dark shades, while near it was a garden with plants and herbs most commonly used for food spices, and meticulously kept just separately from another section for herbs used in medicines.

Surrounding the grounds were the beginning of vineyards to later plant samples of assorted fruits while nearby was the beginning of laying the foundation of a new greenhouse.

Though the gardens would one day produce enough food to sustain a small gathering, the grounds were still wide enough for parties where musical bands, dancing, and socializing could be done. Just nearby, a space had been set aside for plans for a new swimming pool just large enough to be a private miniature water park.

Laurie soon joined a small gathering of people upon the large concrete porch just outside the screen doors to smile at one in particular as she walked up to him in a flirtatious fashion.

The handsome young man had a shaved head, mocha skin coloring, far above average height and had an athletic build that always made Laurie's heart pound quickly in her chest and breakout in a sweat.

The young man gave her a quick but passionate kiss on the lips as he embraced her enthusiastically.

"Glad you finally made it, sweetheart," he said, "We're just about ready to start the barbeque as soon as the rest of our friends bring the rest of the goodies."

"I've been looking forward to this all week, and I am starving like hell," she said to her fiancée, Tyler Morgan.

"You're not the only one," another young man said, this one looking like the quintessential nerd.

"Hey, Mel," Laurie greeted him with a smile, "How've you been?"

"Same old, same old," Melvin sighed, "It hasn't been easy trying to keep some of these kids entertained without spoiling them with details about my newest vid game. Right now they're just excited out of their pants waiting for their 'evening friends' to come out and play."

The three old friends got to chatting, as did most of the gathered people for the long awaited first 'family' barbeque. It only lasted a few more minutes when the friendly socializing suddenly got interrupted by the loud roar of motorcycle engines and whooping yells of mounted bikers who seemed to appear from out of nowhere.

Upon their motorcycles the bikers rode recklessly up and down the large lawn, throwing up dirt and soil to then rip and kill delicately rooted plants, damaging the gardens and small plantations with their tires. Some began swinging their arm chains and iron bars while others randomly fired their assault weapons into the air around them to create further carnage to artistically placed floral beds, the destruction left in their paths more reminiscent of untended weed covered land from long years of neglect and abandonment.

Several barbeque attendants, a few of them even children, ran and screamed in fear as they attempted a close escape from any scruffy bikers who dared to attack them. One biker even came close to taking a five year old boy hostage, but was rescued in time by one of the adult men.

The forty or so members of the biker gang then started riding around the gathered people, whom they outnumbered at least three to one, in a circle to steadily tighten it as though a pod of sharks to herd their prey closer together tighter and tighter with no way to escape.

The people all huddled close to each other, the young children in the center of the tight grouping to be shielded by the adults, everyone fearful of what the bikers intended to do with them next and wondering why they dared with this intrusion into their new home and their long planned out celebration.

The biker gang surrounded the celebrants as they continued their hollered whooping cries of triumph and intimidation, many revving their motorcycle engines to further the growing tangible tension in the air.

Though the members of the biker gang displayed the typical inner city look of being clad in leathers and denims, many even wearing spiked chokers or wrist guards, and even displaying tattoos of their respective gang of stylized snarling wolves in various patterns, as soon as they stopped moving it became more obvious something was strange about them. Most had pointed ears and many had faces portray their noses and mouths look like wild dog snouts, lips curled back to reveal sharpened canines in their yellowed teeth as though to wear permanent Halloween vampire fangs, and some even had their long dirtied nails filed like claws or wore metal finger claws.

One burly and overly scruffy man put down the extension leg from his motorcycle as the engine stopped and stepped forward as though to address the frightened small crowd. His muscular build almost seemed to be poof he occasionally over indulged in steroids, making his dirtied undershirt too tight and rip at the collar, his soiled jeans had large tears at the knees, his leather vest displayed spikes at his shoulders, and he wore a spiked collar and thick spiked wrist guards, and on his right broad shoulder was a large tattoo of a snarling wolf's head enveloped in flames.

Yet the most peculiar feature of him was not his overly dirtied and scruffy beard, which made his face look hairier than he may have actually been, or his uncombed tangled dishwater colored dreadlocks, but that he and nearly the rest of his gang had pointed ears, slightly extended snouts, and their smiles revealed sharpened canines.

The apparent leader of the invading gang stood before the frightened people, slapping an iron pry bar smugly in one hand as he began to speak with a husky voice that had a tone of swallowing too many cigarettes.

"Alright, listen up, folks! I am Wolfsbane, and this is the turf of the Streetwolves! My pack has laid claim to this place for a long time and I mean to take back what's rightfully ours, which means you're all trespassing on private property! Do as I say and I may consider letting you all go, because I understand you didn't know this was already private turf!"

Wolfsbane smiled smugly, showing ugly yellow teeth, as he presented his claim to the frighten people.

Melvin then boldly stepped forward in front of the gang leader and said with shaky bravery,

"This house isn't your turf! You're just a bunch of street punks trying to scare us! How the hell did you all get past the security system?"

Wolfsbane gave Melvin a dangerous look as he then just shoved the young man down on the face to make him land hard on his tush.

"Don't start fuckin' with me now, four eyes," he snarled, "You have no idea who yer talkin' to."

Another young man stepped from the crowd to then display a police badge as he warned to Wolfsbane,

"I'm Officer Montoya of the Chicago PD; I'm going to have to ask you and your colleagues to leave, sir."

Wolfsbane and the rest of the Streetwolves just burst out laughing, clearly unimpressed with the young police officer.

"Your laws don't apply to _us_ , Meat," Wolfsbane laughed huskily.

Montoya's eyes just narrowed but kept his cool, having enough experience thus far in his young career as a police beat officer and having encountered other punks with similar attitudes.

Wolfsbane then swung his iron bar at Montoya and would have done serious damage to the now off duty officer, but he just managed to dodge the swing by inches to then punch the over burly gang leader in the jaw, making his knuckles burn with pain but he shook it off in no time.

Unfortunately, Montoya's punch did little more than irritate the gang leader, having only made Wolfsbane turn his head to the side to only then look at Montoya with venom in his unusually amber colored eyes. There was a faint pop as though he was resetting his mandible and he rubbed at the spot Montoya had punched him, then he growled,

"If that's how you want to play it, Meat. My pack's been inchin' fer a fight anyway and it makes the kill all the sweeter."

He began to take another swing at Montoya, but that too was easily dodged. A brawl began between the two opponents, both proof of being on opposite sides of the law, with Montoya holding his own against the larger Wolfsbane despite his smaller size. Yet Montoya's advantage was several years of training on the force and learning Far Eastern martial arts from a katana sword master back in New York.

Several more members of the biker gang begin to assault the small gathered crowd; one mangy looking punk even grabbed Laurie by the arm as he licked his lips to then lick her cheek with disgusting wet spit, making her cringe with an exasperated yell at such repugnant behavior as she fought to get free.

Laurie struggled against her assailant but his grip was like a vice, and Tyler tried to help her as he grabbed the mangy biker to pull him off of his fiancée, but he just got shoved back hard by the punk and landed in a small dog pile among several other people.

A panic spread among the small crowd suddenly as the strange and dangerous biker gang began attacking the defenseless civilians, one even got so close to the small group of children they could smell his body odor was so bad he may not have bathed in at least a year.

He seemed to be salivating as he said,

"Defenseless young always taste best caught fresh."

Several adults tried to hold him back but his strength proved too great for them as he easily shoved them all away with one mighty push.

This punk was about to grab a frighten screaming child when a cry like a great jungle cat echoed throughout the grounds and signaled the appearance of another even more frightening looking monster with wings, green skin, a protruding snout, and glowing red eyes. The biker who almost attacked the children jumped back from the attacking monster just in time to avoid being clawed by dagger sharp talons as it landed in front of the children and growled like a jungle cat. It was then followed by many more similar monsters with various colors and glowing eyes, some white some red, to land among the frightened crowd and begin fighting the invading biker gang.

Wolfsbane was put off for only a microsecond at the sudden appearance of so many demonic looking creatures in his new claimed territory, but it was enough for another demon creature to suddenly grab him from above.


	4. Chapter 4

With the cry of an eagle soaring upon the winds among distant mountains to signal angelic grace with wings the color of stormy night clouds, a figure with the frightening grace of an avenging night angel seized Wolfsbane by the scruff of his leather vest with the speed of a striking cobra and the strength of a great redwood tree to then soar high above the gathered crowd again and land upon the veranda roof, which shaded the large porch, with a whispered grace to stand in perfect view of all present and hold Wolfsbane by one hand and dangle him over open air as though to threaten dropping him.

Although the biker leader did not fear injuries he might receive from such a drop, for he can easily recover with his abilities, the one who threatened to drop him still greatly surprised him.

" _You're_ trespassing," growled the creature who gripped his vest collar like a vice, its voice a female tone like silver velvet music.

Her eyes glowed a deep fiery crimson and her magnificent wings flared to reveal sunset lavender membranes to somehow enhance the hellish beauty of her deep blue skin and long flowing ebony hair like a starless silken night which came down to a strong waistline on an Amazonian hourglass shaped figure with round wide hips and a buxom chest, her long legs and arms showed a proud warrior's heritage, all which was accentuated by a bright red long sleeved leotard with a deep v-line and bright golden yellow belt; and her jewelry consisted of a purple choker with a diamond shaped ruby pendent with a golden circle, golden hoop earrings, golden wrist bands, and golden anklet of interwoven Celtic knotwork.

For a frozen microsecond the Streetwolves stared at the marvelous she-demon who stood holding their leader, uncertain if it was in awe of her dark beauty or concern for Wolfsbane's safety.

It only took Wolfsbane a moment to gather his wits as he suddenly began to foam at his mouth like a rabid diseased animal and snarl through his spit, "Attack, my pack! The creatures invade our territory!"

Below him and the blue creature, the battle between the Streetwolves and the demonic winged creatures resumed while Wolfsbane raised his iron crowbar to make with pounding his captor. He brought his personal make shift weapon down upon the blue demoness and nearly damaged her face, but she intercepted it with a single grab with remarkable speed as the metal weapon came within inches of her face.

She then tossed him hard away from herself, making him slide for a second across the roof of the veranda to another turret of the castle like mansion. Wolfsbane straightened himself from his body slide to then see the blue demoness bend his crowbar out of proportion as though it were made of plastic. She then tossed that away like it was less than important, where it made a metallic clattering noise and then lay motionless as the worthless piece of twisted metal it now was.

Though he and his 'pack' possessed of their own great bestial strength he was still amazingly impressed.

These creatures will indeed provide the challenge his gang needs, just as promised.

"C'mon and fight me, monster," he challenged with a smug tone, "I've been needin' a good challenge to prove my right as Alpha Male to my pack."

The blue demoness hissed at him like a cheetah, baring her sharp fangs, as she then leaped at him but he only side stepped away from her to then leap to another terrace with amazing inhuman agility. But this did not deter his female opponent, as she just as easily leaped to where Wolfsbane now was and he began to run, and she tailed closely behind him to give chase on all fours.

On the open grounds below, several near bloody battles raged between the Streetwolves and the winged monsters who appeared to be either protecting the defenseless humans or fighting the biker gang to claim them as their own prey. Either way it mattered not to the Streetwolves so long as their ultimate prize was won.

A Streetwolf nearly as burly and scruffy as his leader began assaulting a pretty young woman with auburn hair and glasses over her pale blue eyes as he grabbed her by her arms with a grip strong enough to keep her from escaping, his hands were large enough to hold both her wrists in a tight grip like a small constrictor with only one hand while the other reached for below her stomach to unzip her denim shorts or rip them apart.

The young woman cringed in fear of her would be rapist, even trying to hold back regurgitated bile she tasted from the back of her throat as she smelled the assaulting gang member's putrid breath, which smelled like years of eating nothing but raw meat and never having anything to do with dental hygiene for even longer.

She gave a scream as she struggled to get free of the stronger man's grasp, which just seemed to make him more excited and eager for his claim as he licked at the young woman's face to taste her like a freshly sautéed piece of beef. It was all the more frightening when she once or twice glimpsed his sharpened canines within his surgically altered muzzled face.

Just when she thought it was hopeless, her attacker was suddenly yanked off of her as he gave a yelp of surprise. The young woman quickly opened her eyes to see her assailant being held by the scruff of his soiled shirt by a big light blue monster with dactyl styled wings with teal webbing, three long sharp horns; one grew from the bridge of his nose, and the other two grew from his thick brow ridges at 45* angles, and the tip of his long tail was encircled with three sharp spikes, and wearing a brown vest with knee long brown pants with a brown loincloth over a strong wiry figure, and had glowing white eyes like bright fluorescent bulbs from a boyishly cute face and growling angrily at him.

"That's no way to treat a lady," the creature growled as he then punched the punk hard across the jaw.

The would be rapist managed to get free of the creature's grasp and was able to delve a punch or two of his own to the monster, but though they were hard enough to knock some of the wind from the winged monster they were still futile to truly do any harm to the creature.

The light blue monster then punched the gang biker hard enough to knock him to the ground to then throw itself on top of the would be rapist, grab his neck and began squeezing hard as color drained from his face. The biker chocked for a gasped of fresh breath as he struggled to provide oxygen to his brain, but within only a few seconds his eyes rolled back into his head and his head dropped to the ground as he then lay still.

The creature turned to the young woman as he lost the fearsome glow from his eyes to replace it with a look of concern and worry.

"Are you alright, Jules?" the light blue creature gently asked with a strange European accent as he reached out with a taloned hand to the frightened young woman.

She took a few deep breathes to calm herself and said in a shaky but relieved voice,

"I'll be fine, Rome, thanks to you."

Taking her mysterious friend's hand he pulled her up to her feet and then hugged her close.

They both then looked at the fallen biker's unmoving figure as Julia asked with a worried tone,

"Is he. . .?"

"No," the light blue creature said, "Just unconscious for a few minutes at least. You know I try to not go that far, unless it's necessary."

Julia gave a nod as her light blue rescuer, then he herded her off to some place safer.

In another part of the steadily bloodied yard, a group of six more Streetwolves surrounded another winged creature that looked an awful lot like a bipedal cheetah with dark brown bat wings, light sandy brown wavy hair that came down to her hips, and she wore tight blue running shorts with a white strip down the legs and a tight blue tank top.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. . ." one of the mangy bikers heckled to her, making the cheetah creature growl angrily at them and her eyes glowed a bright iridescent white.

"C'mon, guys," another shouted excitedly, "Y'all know the ol' sayin', there's more than one way to skin a cat. Let's try one right now."

The others gave cheers of concurrence to their fellow biker's abusive declaration, but the cheetah like creature surprisingly gave what looked like a smirk as she warned them with a mocking tone,

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Fortunately, yer not us," one biker malicely grinned as he and his wolf tattooed companions began a rather uncoordinated attack upon the winged cheetah.

They gave bloodcurdling battle cries as they raised assorted weapons of assault rifles, metal chains, large knives, and rusted crowbars; yet while they all tried to attack the winged cheetah with undisciplined random tactics, she was able to use this to her advantage.

With the incredible speed of the animal she was based on, one by one she was able to disarm or tackle her would be attackers.

With fluidic feline acrobatic grace she was first able to grab one knife wielding thug by his wrist to then twist his arm up behind his back enough to nearly dislocate his shoulder, and then use his figure to push herself up and swing her long dancer legs in a double swing kick, using her flared wings and long tail for balance, at four more thugs and knock them back enough to disorient them for a few moments.

She then pushed the first thug away from herself and made him trip over his own feet as he then dog piled into two of his previously kicked friends as they gave exclaimed yelps.

Hearing a battle cry from behind, she twirled quickly enough to see another thug begin twirling a long metal chain around himself like a metallic lasso to then release it and have it strike her a crippling injury; yet instead she grabbed it in midair, kicked her slender yet muscular leg up to twist the chain around it and yank it down with her leg and use the thug's momentum to make his face land on her fist to then hear the disgusting wet sound of his nose breaking.

The next two thugs, who had recovered from her previous kicks, then tried to uncoordinatedly attack her by charging from opposite sides but she just stepped back and watched them run hard into each other and thump hard to the ground and begin groaning.

"I warned you," she said with amused smugness to them all.

They all just gave feral growls at her, making their faces look even more wild dog like, as they all rapidly recovered to their feet, surprising the winged cheetah with their stamina.

"Get 'er!" one of them shouted as he leaped at the winged cheetah, to then immediately be followed by his fellow Streetwolves as they attempted to dog pile upon her.

The winged cheetah used all of her strength trying to hold back the thugs as they dog piled upon her, but it failed as she squeezed her eyes shut and felt her knees begin to buckle under the stress of the weight of the burly bikers.

Drawing on all her concentration, she knew of one last trick she was sure will be a real literal shock to them, but it was an ability she only used as a last resort.

When she had willed and drawn up what she thought was enough power, she opened her eyes as they began to glow bright again.

The first sign of what was happening came as a slight staticey tingling on the attacking Streetwolves' skin, making their body hairs stand on end, to then be followed by a burning pain that startled and hurt their nervous systems as a sudden bright flash of light and an electric burst shot forth from their supposed victim, followed by a deafening drumming bang sound, to only throw them several feet back in all directions from her.

They all landed upon the ground with hard bodily thumps, some unconscious or groaning in near unconsciousness, as the winged cheetah looked at them with satisfaction as electrical sparks danced upon her body, making her fur stand on end in many places, yet she truly looked magnificent with her wings flared to their full length and she felt all the more bad ass.

"That's why I'm called Thunder Cat," she said proudly as the sparking surge steadily died down around her, making her collapse to her knees in exhaustion, yet she continued to smile with pride.

"Oh, yeah!" she gasped with confidence, "You just got schooled, dogs."

A ways away, several more Streetwolves took great pleasure in assaulting and tormenting an elderly couple as they pushed the old man around like a toy ball, and his wife was held by two more of their friends as she screamed and begged for them to stop.

The woman's begging and her husband's predicament only made them laugh maniacally more as they continued with their bullying game to torment whom they thought were helpless old people.

Yet this proved untrue when the old man gathered enough of his wits through his dizziness to give a hard punch to one and then two of his assailants, knocking them back enough to momentarily surprise but mostly annoy them as they stumbled back a step or two to look murderously irritated at the elder man.

The old man just gave them all a challenging look as he held up his fists in a readied boxer's style.

"Look, guys," one of the thugs laughed, "The ol' meat thinks he's all tough and stuff."

The rest of them just joined their fellow thug in a loud guffawing at the old man's boldness.

"I may be old," he said with a faint Mid Western accent, "But I've more than enough moxie in me to tangle with all of you punks."

The attacking wolf inspired gangbangers just laughed loudly again as they raised their assorted weapons for the next attack when a voice suddenly shouted in anger,

"Leave them alone!"

From the air above another winged monster soared towards the attacking Streetwolves, a teal colored female with dark brown , shoulder length hair, standard wings, small horns on her brow ridges, wearing a pinkish orange spaghetti strap shirt and denim shorts, and scarlet glowing eyes. She landed between the old man and his attackers as she fiercely gave a big cat roar to bare her fangs and display her sharp talons at them.

Within seconds, all she did was punch the Streetwolves hard enough to dislocate jaw bones and make them start spewing blood from their lips, which was enough to make them back off from the elderly man, for now.

They then just ran in other directions to find someone else to torment for their twisted amusement.

The next second she grabbed the two thugs who held the old woman between them by their dirtied shirt collars to then swing them in a wide circle in the air to then hit their heads hard against each other as the sound of bone hitting bone cracked between them as they then went unconsciously limp in her hands.

She dropped them from her grip and watched their bodies lay motionless on the ground for a second.

The freed old woman embraced her husband with tangible relief, and he hugged her back to reassure his beloved wife. When she had released him from her embrace, the next thing the old man knew he was having the breath squeezed from his body in a bear hug by the teal colored she monster who seemingly had rescued them.

"Are you okay, Pa?" she whimpered with a faint fearful sob.

"I will be when you stop trying to crush my ribs and let me breath again, Honey," her Pa said with a croaking struggle for breath.

"Oh, sorry," she said with an embarrassed smile, and they just shared a laugh when she released the old man from her tight grip.

"That's my brave girl," said the old woman as she pinched the teal creature's cheek, to which she stated with embarrassed annoyance,

"Ma, stop it, I'm not ten anymore."

"But you know no matter how old you are, or how unusual you are, you'll always be our little girl, Tea," her Pa practically cooed with pride, further embarrassing his teal colored 'daughter' and making her blush in front of everyone else.

Hunched tightly together in a nearby shadowed corner of the mansion's covered porch, more than a dozen or so frightened children, several of them smaller versions of the winged monsters looking no older than toddlers, another Streetwolf member, Slasher, the gang's unofficial 'second-in-command,' cornered them with an insane blissful hunger in his glowing amber colored eyes, practically drooling from his 'snout' as he came threateningly closer to the fearful younglings.

A jade green creature from earlier then suddenly landed between him and his prey and growled warningly at him as her eyes glowed bright red.

"Harm these hatchlings, human, and I shall make you regret it," she dangerously warned with a far eastern accent.

Slasher's face twisted into a dirty look as he inhumanly growled from his throat, "We're _not_ human, freak."

He then began waving a large serrated hunting knife at the jade colored winged creature as though to slash and cut her deeply, hence his name. But the next moment what felt like a living battering ram hit him from his left side to pin him tightly to the ground with heavy weight.

Slasher's mind became momentarily blurred until he shook it off to clear his vision to then see the strangest creature he had seen among these invading monsters yet. It looked like an amalgamation of a huge dire wolf and a sabertooth tiger with spikes growing from its head and three sharp spikes from its back, and a long tuft end tail and was a beautiful deep shade of emerald green.

It growled at Slasher viciously as its eyes glowed a deep fiery red.

"Cu Sidhe takes her duties as watchbeast very seriously," stated the other green creature, "Especially with the safety of hatchlings."

Slasher could only stare in fear of the watchbeast as it snarled at him. The last thing he remembered was it suddenly opening its maw to reveal a mouth full of teeth strong enough to rip him apart.

Upon the rooftop of the progressively remodeled chateaux, the battle between Wolfsbane and the blue demoness had come to a stalemate; in more than one way she had proven to be as strong as he was, if not stronger.

Any attack he delved to her she would just shake off or recover much more quickly from to then return an attack even harder to him in the most unpredictable manner. For every punch or kick he tried to blow to her, she easily dodged to then give her own blow with grease lightening fast speed and a combined feline and serpentine grace at one with the wind and the night.

Though Wolfsbane was able to recover quickly from his own injuries easily enough, it was still made all the more difficult with the creature's sharp elbow or knee spikes cutting deep into his skin to make near fatal wounds that would have killed an ordinary human.

Having lost his crowbar, Wolfsbane drew out his personal revolver with a 20 slug magazine. Surely these creatures were not bullet proof, he was really willing to bet.

But before he fired the first shot, the dark haired creature grabbed his hand with a grip like steel around his wrist, making him loosen his own grip on the gun and giving a groan of pain as she took the gun from him with her other taloned hand and easily crushed it to pieces like a salty cracker.

When she released his wrist, he cradled it close to himself and snared at her with an angered dirty look that enhanced his already lupine features.

He will see to it the blue demon will pay for harming him, but for now he needed a few moments to lick his wounds, so to speak.

Wolfsbane would have made a tactical retreat from his female opponent had he not been suddenly blocked by something in his way which gave him a momentary startle, something big.

A shadowed figure with star white glowing eyes, skin the color of dark dusky twilight, nearly seven feet tall with a robust figure that told of a love child of an ancient Greek God and a military arms tank wearing a tight gray short sleeved shirt and tight denim shorts down to his knees, shoulder length dark brown hair and a handsome face with a square shaped jaw line and high cheek bones, stepped from the shadows cast by one of the mansion's several towers and gave a deep earth shaking growl at Wolfsbane.

His elegantly caped standard male wings, the color of a mysterious darkening twilight sky, smoothly rose from his broad shoulders to then cocoon him for but a half second before they unveiled from him like curtains with a leathery snap to then flare up to their full length in an intimidating matter, his body language speaking of someone in a ready stance for a fight and who may be an expert at martial arts with his feet positioned apart and his large hands in tight fists.

"If you enjoy fighting so much, gang banging brigand," the larger creature growled in a challenge, "Fight me."

"I'd like that very much, monster," Wolfsbane mocked, "But there's just this little problem with my wrist, that blue bitch broke it."

"That 'bitch' is my lifemate," the larger darker blue creature growled dangerously, giving Wolfsbane a hard punch in the face for the insult, making the biker gang leader stumble back into the blue demoness and pushing him off of herself.

Wolfsbane turned back to her to see her standing with her arms across her impressive chest and an amused look on her beautiful face, her eyes had stopped glowing red to reveal eyes the color of a deep ocean crystal blue that held the mysteries of the ocean in the night.

"I see you've met my husband, Danger," she said.

Wolfsbane just snarled again as he spit out, "I won't be stopped by a couple of demon freaks!"

"We are not demons," stated the darker blue creature called Danger, "and we are not monsters, we are Gargoyles. You will learn to respect the name."

Wolfsbane just gave a challenging yell as he prepared to attack Danger, but the larger gargoyle rapidly grabbed his injured wrist and twisted his arm to his back and pushed Wolfsbane to his knees with an unrivaled strength of a living mountain.

"Who the fuck do you think you are that can do this to me?" he demanded.

"I am Athena," the blue female stated with a great warrioress dignity, "The elected leader of the new Chicago Clan, and Danger is my second-in-command. We are Gargoyles, and we protect, that is all you need to know."

She then grabbed Wolfsbane by his leather vest and shirt, her talons digging deep enough to leave holes.

"This fighting is pointless," she hissed as she brought him close to her face that she could smell years of unwashed body odor, "And grows tiresome. Take your gang and leave here. This is _our_ home, not your turf. It was stupid to try it. If you even dare to come back here, we won't hesitate to kill all of you. Now be gone!"

Athena then dashed to the nearest edge of the turret, caught the wind under her bat like wings to soar over the open grounds of the old chateaux and soon dropped Wolfsbane several meters outside the iron gate and onto the dirt road. She was soon followed by several more winged gargoyles doing the same with his men as one by one they rained down from above and dropped hard to the dirt road.

Only seconds afterwards there came a rain of motorcycles crashing all around them like a metallic torrent or miniature meteor shower from the heavens; many broke apart on impact with the ground to need extensive repair or were completely destroyed now to be beyond repair.

When the last of his men and their motorcycles stopped raining like death from the sky, Wolfsbane gave a deadly glare as the last of the Gargoyles' silhouettes faded from the dark sky.

Now he had more reason to seek vengeance upon those monsters that dared to claim something he knew he should rightfully have.

Sooner or later he will show them who truly rules the night.

From the dark skies above the previously attacked celebrants, a small legion of winged creatures descended from above as though a hoard of conquering demons. But this was not so, for the humans knew these creatures to be their guardian angels and saw their frightful dark beauty and grace for what it truly was as smiles and applause reverberated throughout the small crowd as they landed amongst them triumphantly.

Athena finally landed among the applauding crowd, though she stumbled a bit as she gripped the side of her waist as though in slight pain, but it was a small inconvenience to be ignored for now. She was then joined by her bigger and darker blue lifemate who embraced her with his muscular arm to hold her close.

She always appreciated how much he always showed his fathomless affections for her, but sometimes it felt too much like he was trying to smother her.

"Well done, my brothers and sisters," she congratulated to the rest of the gathering clan as they began to give their own cheers for their victory over the invading Streetwolves.

Laurie stepped up to Athena and gave her a friendly light punch on the shoulder as she said,

"Cuttin' it pretty close again, arncha, A-girl?"

"Don't I always," the blue gargess returned with a wide smile.

"Daniel!" shouted a matronly looking woman, with a pleasantly plump figure and dressed in an expensive looking tailor made and professionally designed fashion clothes, came running up to Danger and hugged him tightly as though having feared the worst.

"Honey, are you okay?" she practically demanded with a choked sob.

"I'm fine, Mom," he said while trying to loosen her grip on him without making her completely letting go, "Do you always have to be so protective of me? I can take care of myself."

"I can't help it," his mother said, "It's what mothers do."

They both laughed, then Danger looked to the bespectacled young man called Melvin as he brushed dirt and soil from his figure from being attacked by the thugs.

"Are you okay, Mel?" he asked his oldest friend.

"I'll be fine, Dan," Melvin answered, "You know it'll take more than a bunch of hooligans to scare me off. I just want to know who the hell they were and how they got into our home. I didn't hear any alarms go off."

Through the chatting and assessments of assaulted people and their injuries, slight murmurs of concern and apprehension replaced the brief moments of gladding calmness in this aftermath.

Dozens of nervous eyes looked to Athena and Danger for any guidance of what to do next, which always made Athena very uncomfortable largely due to her inexperience. She could only return the same look of concern to the gathered clan and their human friends.

Montoya then stepped forward as he dragged an unconscious Slasher, abandoned by his gang, into view of the rest of the humans and gargoyles to say,

"I suggest a thorough inspection of the alarm system immediately, they may've sabotaged it somewhere and it allowed them to enter the grounds."

"We first need to gather our wounded and tend to them before anything else," the jade green gargess spoke up, "As well as get the children inside and assessed first."

"I think we should follow those human bandits to their lair and slay them where they stand," spoke up a brawny sienna colored gargoyle, a few voices raised in agreement.

"No," spoke up Montoya, "they must be arrested within the full power of the law. You know killing them in cold blood will only create more problems on both sides, Spike."

Spike just growled at Montoya as talks around the veranda steadily began to grow into heated arguments about what to do next.

As people became more agitated from what action to take about this confrontation, Athena could only stand nervously in place as she watched and listened to her clan's growing outrage with the attacking gang and now each other.

She could only think about what her father would do in a situation like this, because to her he had always been and will always be a clan leader, where as she was just a young gargoyle trying to find her place in the world and just got thrown into the leadership role.

As arguing among the humans and gargoyles nearly reached a shouting match, Athena's own tolerance level finally reached its end.

"QUIET!" she shouted with amazing power in her voice.

Immediate silence rolled over the crowd and looked in surprised awe at the young would be clan leader.

She stepped into the open space in the middle of the crowd and began to say,

"Those are all good suggestions, so this is how I am going to prioritize. Kwan Yin and Gale will gather up the wounded and take them to the medical wing, tend to the worst first and how to handle it from there I'll leave up to you. Mrs. Galloway and the other elders will gather the kids and get them inside while Melvin and Ben will take our best technicians and look over every centimeter of that security system."

She then looked to an Amazonian tall and well built Gargoyle female with bright turquoise coloring, moon white hair, sharp fins on her lower arms and thighs, tall curving goat like horns, and wearing a maroon short skirt tunic with a single strap over her right shoulder and tight shorts.

"Callisto, take a small group of the best warriors and trackers you know of in this clan and follow those punks as far you can, but no killing. Find out whatever you can about them, but be discreet, this city may not yet be ready to know we're here."

"Yes, leader," Callisto acknowledged as she then began walking into the crowd to pick her group.

"The rest of us will all help get this mess cleaned up and start fixing the gardens later," Athena concluded.

As the rest of the clan began to disperse with their given orders, the ones named Tea, short for Gallatea, her elderly human father and mother, Thunder Cat, Officer Montoya, and Kwan Yin gathered around Athena and Danger to first give more suggestions or tell of their suspicions about the Streetwolves.

"What do you plan to do about those hooligans if you find them or they come back?" Mr. Johnson, Tea's human father, almost demanded.

"They can be turned over to the police," Montoya answered, "I may have only transferred from New York a couple of months ago, but this is still within my jurisdiction. To turn in the Streetwolves to the police by the clan will be a show of good faith."

"That might be a good idea," Thunder Cat spoke up, "But I dunno if it's true. When I kicked the asses of some of those bitches I could tell something was totally whack with 'em. They were a lot more animalistic than some gangbangers I used to be familiar with."

"I fought with one that said they were not human," said Kwan Yin, "And I am sure from the way he moved it was true. My old clan may have been isolated for a long time, but they were not like any humans I have been told of."

"They were human alright, we could all smell it," Tea said, "But I agree there was something really weird about them. Did you see their faces? They almost looked like dogs or wolves or some other kind of canine."

"Maybe they're some kind of unfinished mutates," Thunder Cat said with a hint of excitement in her voice.

"I do not believe they are mutates, Sister TC," Kwan Yin stated, "I noticed much scarring around their faces, they must have had poorly done surgical alterations by under practiced human doctors."

The others gave murmurs of agreement, then Athena said,

"That may be true, but there is something strange about them. My magical powers may not be as strong as some people, but I could still sense something supernatural about them, like they were possessed. Their leader, Wolfsbane, kept calling his gang a _pack_."

The others then gave agreements, wondering what it all meant.

"I have another suggestion," Montoya said, the others then looked at him, "If we can't get answers about all of this on our own I may know of someone who could help. The department I'm currently working in, Special Investigations, has called in this guy, Harry Dresden, as a consultant about things like this all the time. He's rumored to be an expert on the supernatural, and knowing you guys and all our friends back in New York, I wouldn't be too surprised."

"That's a good idea, but for now this has to be an internal clan affair," Athena said, "We'll only ask for this Harry Dresden's help if he can be trusted. Being in a new city, we must be cautious with trusting possible new human friends. You remember how long it took my father, Goliath, to trust you, right, Randy?"

Although he had grown a lot since that experience, Randy could only blush with embarrassment and give a goofy smile he once only gave to a beautiful older woman whom he had a great puppy dog crush on once.

The group then dispersed to tend to other important matters, leaving the two clan leaders alone with only each other.

Danger held his lifemate close as he felt her curvaceous body touch his strong muscular form, her long arms wrapped around his thick neck. They looked deep into each other's eyes, ocean blue to dark fiery brown, their hearts needing no words as their souls merged to become one with but a single look.

"It hasn't been easy, has it?" Danger asked.

"No, it hasn't," she said quietly.

"We'll get through this, we always do."

"I hope so, but I don't know if I can do this leader thing. Goliath made it look so easy, but these people. . . they're all just so different."

"If tonight proved one thing, they're capable of working together and becoming the clan we know they can be. That's why they all came here, for the second chances at having a clan they lost or uniting the Gargoyle race more."

Athena smiled up at her lifemate, knowing he was right and always admiring his rare optimism.

"Maybe you should be the new clan leader," she teased.

"You know why they chose you over me," he just said with a smile, "Being second in command isn't so bad. But maybe Callisto, or Clash, or even Rocky would make better choices, they've had more leadership experience."

"Maybe," Athena sighed, "But as long as you're by my side, I know I can do anything."

They chuckled as their wings warmly embraced each other and they stroked each other's long dark hair, then they shared a long and passionate kiss that was like a brightly burning beacon in the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Chicago has long been a city of education, business, and a melting pot of cultures drawing a variety of people from across the country and from around the world to ever command its place as the largest city in the Mid Western United States, even this old and proud metropolis had its darker side.

Chicago had been build upon a swamp land long ago, by American standards. So as the centuries passed, buildings and even entire blocks slowly sank into the soft muddy foundation to only be replaced by newer and ever towering spires, yet these too eventually sank into the swampy land, creating an entire world below now long forgotten by people and their descendents who lived above.

Yet not all of it had been a creation of man.

As decades went by, other tunnels and structures took their own places beside the long buried shops and homes, expanding this world into an entity of its own and further defy logic.

This world had become inhabited by creatures long dismissed as myth or the whimsical nonsense told in children's books, while others were far more frightening and came to this shadowed world to always shun the light of the Sun.

Even centuries before the city's founding, creatures of myth and magic had come to this place to escape the wrath of the King of the Third Race or his more malevolent brother who sought to steal his brother's throne and power.

Even now they try to resist the call of The Gathering or escape punishment for siding with the Fey King's darker brother.

But not all of the Third Race sought refuge in the seemingly endless tunnels; some were creatures that may have defied classification even in magic, yet were strong enough in power to rival even the ancient deities of the Third Race.

Through the hands of man and altering preferences of the unknown, this Undertown had become reputed as a truly frightening place few dared to venture.

For if you even dared to enter into this despairing place, there may be no returning.

Yet like countless other mystic lifeforms that have made this underworld their home, a new group of inhabitants had sought a place of their own to protect.

A huge cavern, the size of it enough to rival the most majestic of the largest and oldest European cathedrals, now housed a new clan of Gargoyles. They had made it to be adequate enough for their needs for it was unreachable by humans, even if they had made their way through one of the many tunnels leading to this cavern, to only be unfortunate enough to encounter these anti-human Gargoyles, if not one of the other countless unknown dangers below.

It was enough to be out of reach of most humans, yet was also close enough to the surface to provide the necessary access to much needed sunlight for stone sleep, and the hunting for meat was also adequate, if not always plentiful.

A spindly gargoyle of a most unpleasant brownish yellow coloring kneeled before his master and leader, an even more intimidating Gargoyle deeply silhouetted in the darkest shadows with the presence of a leader and of one who sought power.

He gazed coldly down at the gargoyle that now bowed before him, all too certain of what he had to say.

"What do you have to report?" he demanded with a deep cold voice that reverberated around the cathedral sized cave his new tribe now called their own.

"Failed," was all the kneeling Gargoyle had to say.

"All of it," his leader stated coldly, for it was not a question.

"Yes," said the reporting Gargoyle with fear.

"A pity," his leader simply sighed.

He looked to his new clan, which had fewer members than the rival clan stupidly living among humans on the surface. Even more disappointing was there were even fewer females in his clan, including his own mate.

"Then it simply means our clan sorcerer needs more practice," the giant leader coldly stated, "And I am partially to blame, I knew it was foolish to allow a pathetic band of humans playing at being beasts to engage our rivals. A true warrior fights openly, not as a coward to hide behind others while they fight for him."

"Yes, Master," the kneeling Gargoyle concurred.

"If we cannot make the fools see the folly they are about to commit it will mean the downfall of our race," the larger Gargoyle continued, "Yet what may be worse is that they have chosen to follow abominations. Quite a pity, if the female's 'mother' hadn't given up her noble centuries long quest to destroy the pathetic apes I may have just a bit more respect for her as a leader. A pity indeed."

He simply turned his back to the spindly Gargoyle, and said he was dismissed for now.

"We must bide our time for now," he said, "Wait for another moment to strike."

"Yes, Master Grendal," his second respectfully acknowledged, walking away to join the others for the approaching dawn, and the day's stone slumber.

END OF CHAPTER 1.

NEXT: CHAPTER 2. HARD PLACE


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